


Rum and Coke and Strawberry Daiquiris

by MonkeyMindScream



Category: Yin Yang Yo!
Genre: Drinking, Implied Drunken Mistakes, M/M, Night Master's bummed out, Yo is bummed out, neither wants to deal with the other, this looks like a job for alcohol and oversharing!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22462123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonkeyMindScream/pseuds/MonkeyMindScream
Summary: Yo gets stood up, which is depressing. He ends up drinking alone at a bar, which is worse.He acquires a drinking buddy, which is the most atrocious thing to come out of his night thus far.
Relationships: Master Yo/Night Master
Kudos: 5





	Rum and Coke and Strawberry Daiquiris

**Author's Note:**

> I initially wasn't going to bother posting this here considering it's both offensively long and incredibly niche, but eh. Why not, I suppose?

She hadn’t come.

Yo told himself she must have mixed up the date. Or maybe she’d gone to the wrong restaurant, and they could both have a laugh over it and reschedule.

Never mind that they’d confirmed both the time and place hours before they were supposed to meet. Never mind that as he’d sat anxiously waiting at his booth, he’d noticed a woman walk into the restaurant out of the corner of his eye. She’d taken two steps in before she started digging in her purse like she’d forgotten something, then left and didn’t come back.

A little voice in the back of his head had _warned_ him against using that old photo on his profile page. He’d argued back that no one would respond if he’d used a current picture. And anyway, once they actually met he’d be able to prove looks weren’t everything, right?

 _Not if she catches sight of you from the door and leaves without even talking to you, you liar_.

He had ordered munchies as he waited, and tried to look like his evening was going as planned. He was pretty sure the wait staff knew what was actually happening, though. And the people in the tables near his, too. Heck, it felt like the people across the _street_ knew.

At the hour mark, he threw some money on the table to cover the cost of his finger food, and stood to leave. And though he knew it wasn’t the case at all, he felt like the whole restaurant was watching him go. Like a mini- walk of shame all the way to the exit.

He sat in his car for a while after finally getting to it, wondering what to do. In spite of his best efforts, Yin and Yang had found out he’d brushed the dust off the joke- dating profile Yang had set up for him. _How_ they’d managed to do that he wasn’t entirely sure; he mostly chalked it up to them being nosy little snots. Well, that and they both understood computers a lot better than he did. He thought he’d managed to deflect their questions at first, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t gone back and hacked the thing to find out what site he’d been on. Yo missed the days where if you’d gotten a message you didn’t want others to see, all you had to do was light the stupid thing on fire or eat it or something.

The point was, they knew what he was out doing tonight. And _he_ knew that if he went back home right now, _they_ would know that – one way or another – things hadn’t gone well. What _good_ date only lasted one measly hour? He went through his mental rolodex for a convincing lie he could tell – she had to get up early the next morning, she got food poisoning, _he_ got food poisoning – but he stopped short. Even if the kids believed him… _he’d_ know. More than anything, he really didn’t want to talk or think about any of this right now.

Best way he could think to do that was to stay out until it was a reasonable time for his “date” to end, then go home and say things had been _fine_.

…where did lonely old people go when they needed to kill time?

Yo pondered for a solid fifteen seconds, then let his head fell forward, bumping it against the steering wheel as he groaned.

He thought he’d be able to make it his whole life _without_ living this particular cliché…

Sitting up straight and telling his dignity to clench its buttocks and brace itself, he put his car in drive and headed off in search of a bar.

* * *

The bar he ended up at wasn’t the bottom of the barrel, at least. He took some comfort in that. It was decently clean, at any rate, and the patrons all looked normal enough. The lighting could be a little better, but all else aside that was a pretty minor complaint.

So here he was. An old guy drinking all by himself at a bar. On a Friday. At… pellets, he shouldn’t have looked at the clock, it was way too early to sit drinking all alone. Now he felt even more pathetic.

He slid onto a stool near the far-end of the bar. Ideally, he would have sat at the _very_ end, as far away as he could get from the people happily enjoying their Friday night, but someone was already there. Oh well. He ordered his drink and sat back to wait.

The group further up the bar sounded like they were having fun… Yo wondered how long it had been since he’d had the chance to spend a night out with friends. He really didn’t need the wave of depression that came with the realization that he couldn’t actually remember. Kraggler was the closet he had to a “friend” these days, and he could barely manage to stay awake during the _day._ An evening on the town was definitely out.

A second wave of depression hit as the bartender slid him his drink. He downed it in two gulps, and ordered another.

He drank his second glass more slowly, surreptitiously people-watching to distract from everything going on in his head. The group of friends further up the bar looked to be late-twenties to early-thirties. They weren’t doing shots or anything crazy; they just seemed to be catching up over drinks.

There were some other kids in the table somewhere behind him, and Yo guessed these ones where in their _early_ -twenties. Mostly because these ones _were_ doing shots, and at the rate they were going he could only assume they were afraid the alcohol would disappear if they didn’t drink it fast enough. (Enjoy it while you can, kids.)

The guy at the end of the bar was dressed all in black, wearing a baggy old sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. He was thin, and even though he was curled forward over his drink Yo got the sense he was pretty tall. Eh, taller than _him_ , at least. Which wasn’t saying a lot (pandas were never known to be _giants_ ), but still.

The guy tipped back the last of his drink, then waved down the bartender. “One more.”

Yo promptly choked on his rum and coke.

The guy’s voice was deeper than what he would’ve expected coming from someone as rail-thin as he was. That wasn’t what had made him snort his drink out his nose and back into his glass, though. What had made him choke was that when the guy talked, his voice came out in _layers_.

Yo _knew_ that voice.

Before Yo could do anything (before he could even _think_ to), the guy turned to look at him, attention drawn by his sputtering.

The Night Master liked strawberry daiquiris, apparently.

Now see, if circumstances had been ideal, Yo could have said any number of dramatically appropriate things, or at least offered him a good glare. But things _weren’t_ ideal, because really when were they ever, and instead he couldn’t stop coughing.

The Night Master (well, not really, but if he had an actual name Yo didn’t know it, and calling him “the _former_ Night Master” was too much of a mouthful, _so_ ) had a lot of emotions swirling across his face. Or… eh, more like three, actually: surprise, confusion, and utter irritation. But considering Yo had only ever seen the guy use a grand total of _two_ previously – anger and gloating – it was an impressive range, by his standards.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he hissed.

“ _Me?”_ Yo choked. His nose was still burning from the alcohol he’d snotted through it. It wasn’t helping the tears his coughing had brought to his eyes at _all._ “A-ain’t you supposed to be—” hack, cough, “ _banished_ in a dark void right now?”

This might have been the wrong thing to say, rubbing salt in an already very PO’ed bat’s wounds and all, but Yo stood by it. Out of the two of them, he had _way_ more right to randomly be at a bar than a past _master of all evil_ did.

The Night Master bared his teeth in a snarl. “I was let out early for good behavior, _”_ he sneered, sarcasm-levels hitting critical. “Now you. What’s a ‘ _Woo Foo master—’_ ” (the tone and air-quotes were unwarranted and annoying) “—doing at a bar? Are you drinking to forget what abysmal _failures_ your pathetic students are?”

Yo glared. “Those ‘f _-failures’_ kicked your scrawny butt,” he sniped, slowly getting a hold on his coughing. “What’s that make you?”

The Night Master’s expression twisted further, and within the span of a heartbeat he’d crossed the space between them and seized the front of Yo’s shirt. (He’d _tried_ to look nice for his date, for all the good it’d done him. His own anger spiked when it was gripped hard enough to threaten tearing.)

“ _Listen here you_ —”

“ _Hey!”_ the bartender suddenly snapped, making both of them turn their heads. “No fighting. You wanna brawl, take it outside.”

Her face was a mask of ‘ _I don’t get paid enough to put up with this and I have nothing to lose.’_ There was a beat where they looked at her, another where they turned back to glare at each other, then with a disgusted growl the Night Master shoved him away.

“Useless fool,” he spat under his breath, returning to his seat.

Yo glared again. “Has-been,” he shot back, not bothering to keep it under anything.

The Night Master’s head snapped back in his direction. “ _I’m_ the has-been?! When I know for a fact you spend every free moment you have sinking farther and farther into a ratty old armchair?” (Note to self: punt Coop down the road for spying crimes of days past.) The Night Master sneered. “Bit of a far cry from the ‘ _great hero’_ you once were, wouldn’t you say?”

If he hadn’t been so against the idea of paying the bar for breaking their glasses, Yo probably would’ve shattered the one in he was holding. Or thrown it at the bat’s stupid head, one of the two.

“Oh yeah, and _you_ keep _so_ busy?” he returned. “We all thought you’d _died_.” He looked away, taking another swig of his drink. “Turns out you were just sulking and gettin’ drunk. Who’da thought.”

Yo’d been aiming to get a rise, and _boy_ did he get one. The Night Master bristled, hackles visibly raising, and his expression was suddenly so dangerous that even without dark powers or the overlord garb, it was clear how he’d managed to become a Night Master in the first place.

“Do you think I _want_ to be here right now?!” he snarled, looking livid. “Do you really think that if I had _anywhere_ else to be, I’d choose _here?”_

“Well since you’re having _such_ a rotten time, how ‘bout you _leave_ and let me have a drink in peace, how’s that sound?” Yo returned, unphased.

“I was here first!”

The conversation was starting to get loud. The guys further up the bar had stopped talking to watch them warily, and the bartender was looking increasingly fed up. (The kids in the back were still barking and cheering as they did their shots, either none the wiser or just not caring.) Yo ignored them.

Before he could respond, the Night Master went on, “Where else do you expect me go, exactly? I have no lair to stay in, no minions to talk to, and if I spend one more second in that accursed _suburban prison_ I am literally going to lose my mind!”

(Yo wanted to make a comment about the Night Master apparently being forced to live in _suburbia_ now, but couldn’t think of a way to phrase it that would properly convey his scorn. He said nothing instead.)

Apparently done with his rant, the Night Master looked down to glare hatefully into his daiquiri. After a moment, he bit out, “You ruined my life.”

Yo continued to watch him stonily, not speaking. This all coming from the guy who’d banished all his friends and made the whole world think the art he’d practiced his entire life was a complete joke…

Eventually, he grumbled, “You ruined mine first,” and tossed back the last of his drink.

He ordered another.

* * *

“What are you dressed up for?”

Yo looked up. The Night Master was staring at him dispassionately, elbow resting on the bar, head resting in his hand. They’d been drinking in silence for the last twenty minutes, both stubbornly trying to pretend the other didn’t exist. At least, that’s what Yo had been doing.

When he didn’t immediately answer, the Night Master gestured at his outfit vaguely, specifying, “You usually look like trash. Why don’t you now? This bar is trash, you’d have fit right in.”

…charming.

The Night Master apparently noticed the bartender glaring at him for his comment about the bar, because he turned to her with a glare of his own. “Oh, don’t give me that look, this place is a _hole._ Just spit in my next drink and move on already.”

As she moved away, still scowling, he turned back to Yo expectantly.

The sober, reasonable part of Yo’s brain didn’t want to even _think_ about why he was dressed up, much less _talk_ about it. Much less with _this_ guy.

…but unfortunately it was the alcohol-soaked part that was doing the driving at the moment, and that part wanted to vent. Even if it was to a former Night Master.

“I had a date,” Yo muttered, taking another swig of his drink.

The Night Master tilted his head, then swiveled on his seat to squint up at the clock on the wall behind them.

“What kind of _date_ ends before 10:30?” he asked.

The sober part of Yo’s mental facilities managed to wrestle the controls away from the drunken part just long enough for him to regret saying anything. Sinking into his stool and trying to hide his expression with his glass, he mumbled, “The kind that doesn’t show up.”

There was a short pause as the Night Master processed his words, followed by vindictive snickering.

“Too _bad_ ,” he said, insincere and delighted. “I can’t think of a single reason why anyone would _ever_ want to stand you up.” Then, sounding positively gleeful at the prospect, “Was it a blind date? Do you think she came in, saw you, and left?”

Yo felt his face getting hot as he sunk further in on himself, shoulders hunching.

The silence didn’t go unnoticed. The Night Master laughed again.

Yo grasped for anything he could use to defend himself. He settled on disinterest. “Could’ve been worse,” he said, forcing his shoulders to un-hunch so he could shrug. “Could’ve had an ex show up. Could’ve had _Edna_ show up.”

The Night Master’s sadistic grin faltered a bit. “‘Edna’?”

“Obsessive ex,” Yo supplied, flailing for the last strand of his self-esteem. There was at least _one_ woman on the planet that thought he was worth something. Even if that woman was… eugh, _Edna_. “Crazy old dragon lady. We went out a couple times and she won’t let it go. I wouldn’t put it past her to make a fake dating account to try to meet up with me.”

“Crazy old drag…? Wait—” The Night Master’s eyes lit up. “Do you mean that— that annoying little ant conqueror’s _mother?_ ”

“Uh… yes?”

The sadistic joy returned to the Night Master’s face full force. “ _You used to go out with Barbecue-Breath??”_

Yo’s face felt hot again. He hadn’t counted on the Night Master actually knowing who he was talking about.

To his dismay, the bat moved several seats closer. He was now sitting right next to him, apparently intent on prying every last sordid detail of the story out of him. “How did you end up dating a villain, precisely? And why did you break up? You seem like you’d be a _perfect_ fit for each other, conflicting moral alignments aside.”

Yo grunted, leaning as far back as he could without falling off his seat. “Remember when we were ignoring each other? Wasn’t that nice? Can we go back to that?”

The Night Master grinned in a way that plainly conveyed _no_. No they couldn’t.

(Apart from being annoying and intrusive, Yo couldn’t help but find the bat’s sudden curiosity more than a little unnerving. Apparently while alcohol made _him_ stupid _,_ it made the Night Master unbearably _chatty_.)

Hoping to put the matter to rest, Yo snapped, “I didn’t date her because I _wanted_ to; she was wearing a Broach of Irresistibility!” He huffed. “Once the broach came off, the relationship was _over_ as far as I was concerned.”

Rather than dissuade his amusement, like Yo had hoped, the Night Master looked still more delighted. _“You weren’t even dating her by choice!”_ he crowed. “You got magically _volunteered!_ ”

Not appreciating the mockery (though, admittedly, he now wasn’t sure if the Night Master was mocking _him_ or _Edna_ at this point), Yo glowered. “So how do _you_ know her, then?”

The Night Master smirked. “Same as you, though I wasn’t stupid enough to get tricked into actually dating the crocodile.”

Yo blinked. “Wait, so then how is that the same…?”

A scoff and an eyeroll. “She used to pop up at Evil Cons to try to flirt. She seemed to think that because her _son_ had made a villainous name for himself, that meant that _she_ had a reputation too.” The Night Master’s face twisted at the memory, momentarily looking like someone had just force-fed him shower cleaner. “She dropped the phrase ‘power-couple’ more than once when she came to talk.” Then, smirk returning, “You took up the mantle for me after I left, it would seem.”

Now it was Yo’s turn to pull a face. “Yeah, you’re _welcome_.”

The Night Master offered another round of sadistic snickering in response.

Feeling more than a little embarrassed and exceedingly annoyed, Yo snapped, “Okay, so you know why I’m dressed up, how come _you’re_ in here lookin’ like a hobo? Did you just _give up_ when your tailor went AWOL?”

The mirth withered and died on the Night Master’s face. His ears suddenly went flat against his head, and Yo was vindictively pleased to see he’d gone slightly red underneath his scowl.

“I can’t exactly afford to draw attention to myself at the moment,” he said tightly. “My preferred choice of fashion tends to turn heads.”

“Uh, yeah, ‘cause it’s pretentious and godawful,” Yo said dismissively. “Still, you used to at least look like you _cared_. Guess now that you don’t have anyone to impress you’ll just throw on just about anything, huh?”

The Night Master’s face went still redder, his ears pressed even tighter to his scalp, and Yo took no small amount of satisfaction to see _his_ shoulders hiking up this time. He looked away, glaring, and didn’t respond.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” Yo asked, tone decidedly unkind. “The game’s not goin’ how you wanted so now you don’t wanna play anymore?” Yo turned back to his drink, expression twisting. “Well ain’t _that_ just typical.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” the Night Master snapped, looking back to him.

“Whaddya _think_ it means, genius?” Yo asked, gesturing widely. “The forces of evil _love_ getting a rise outta people, _love_ making everyone else feel _miserable_. But the minute the tables turn and the shoe’s on the other foot, you either throw a tantrum or back out. It’s _typical_.”

“And the forces of good play victim and pray _karma_ when those tables _don’t_ turn,” the Night Master shot back. “Choice of evils.”

After a long moment of glaring at each other, the Night Master looked away again, muttering, “No pun intended.”

Yo realized, after another long moment, that he didn’t have the energy or the sobriety to debate this much further. Instead, he just grumbled, “Seems like a pretty easy choice to me, but _whatever_ ,” and took another drink.

The Night Master, who was in the process of accepting another daiquiri form the bartender, grumbled back, “Seems like a clear choice to me, too.”

Yo watched him for a second. “She probably _did_ spit in your drink, y’know,” he warned disinterestedly after a moment’s consideration.

The Night Master held the daiquiri up slightly in mock, unenthused jubilation. “Cheers,” he said flatly, and downed over half in one gulp.

Yo rolled his eyes.

* * *

Another span of silence passed. The guys further up the bar had left, and the kids behind them were slowly sinking into an alcohol-induced stupor. The Night Master was still seated beside him, having never moved back to his original seat. Yo wondered distantly, abstractly, what he might be thinking about as he stared unfocusedly across the bar, but then just as distantly decided he didn’t care. He did wonder what exactly had brought him here, though. Like, to this bar _specifically_ , not “here at this moment in time.”

“You said you live in a suburb now, right?” he blurted.

The Night Master flinched, then turned to glare at him.

“What’s it to you?”

Yo shrugged. “You _did_ say that, right?” At the Night Master’s stiff nod, he asked, “Is it nearby? It’s gotta be, right? Why else would you be here right now?”

The Night Master snorted, rolling his eyes. “I like the pleasant _company_ ,” he said, jerking his thumb in the bartender’s direction. Who saw and heard him, by the way. She was literally going to punch him in the mouth if he didn’t shut up soon. (Yo fell bizarrely compelled to keep him talking, all of a sudden.)

Again, he asked, “What’s it to _you_ , panda? Are you planning an attack? Should I be _flattered_ you still consider me worth your time?”

Yo shrugged again. “Just think it’s funny, that’s all.”

As the Night Master glared daggers, a grin suddenly tugged at Yo’s mouth, and he propped his elbow against the bar to stare at him.

“Didja have, like, a housewarming party when you first moved in? You workin’ a 9’ to 5’ now?”

“Shut up,” the Night Master said.

“You yell at the neighborhood kids when they end up on your lawn?” Yo went on, unbothered. “D’you have yard sales—?”

“ _Shut up!_ ” the Night Master said again, louder this time. Yo was pleased to see he’d gone a bit red again.

“That a ‘yes’?” he sing-songed.

“So what if it—?!” but he clapped his hands over his mouth before he could finish, looking horrified.

Oh, no _way_. “Wait, _what?_ ” Yo asked, grin growing exponentially.

The Night Master yanked his hood back over his head and turned away, apparently trying to go back to pretending Yo wasn’t there.

Yo burst out laughing.

“Why is that so hilarious?” the Night Master demanded. “ _Other_ people do those things their whole lives, I don’t see you laughing at _them_.”

“Uh, _other_ people are _normal?_ ” Yo said. “ _Other_ people don’t make a whole thing about how big and bad and _evil_ they are?”

The Night Master huffed. “Well, when you’re _good_ at something…”

“Yeah, ‘cept you’re apparently _not_ , considering you ended up living in—” Yo broke off laughing again.

The Night Master bristled. “I was doing just _fine_ until you and your brats decided to—”

“Hey whoawhoawhoa,” Yo said, holding up his hands defensively (and still thoroughly enjoying the bat’s embarrassment and frustration, but that was beside the point). “Don’t get mad at _me_ because your choice of careers came back to bite ya.”

“How is something a _choice_ when it’s your _only option?_ ” the Night Master snapped.

Yo’s grin dissipated. The Night Master didn’t look at him, instead putting all his focus back on his drink. Finally, Yo said, “You’re really gonna try to play _that_ card, huh?”

“Yep,” the Night Master said, tone clipped.

Oh you gotta be…

“After everything you did,” Yo clarified, patience abruptly starting to fizzle, “all the— the years and years and _years_ of being completely _horrible_ , you’re literally gonna sit there and try to sell some ‘oh, it was the only choice I had in life, woe is me!’ –story?”

“‘Woe is’ _nothing_ , I enjoyed every second of it,” the Night Master spat. “But yeah, that’s what we’re going with.”

Yo stared at him, the amusement he’d felt a few seconds ago feeling very far away.

“Go to _hell_ ,” he finally said.

“Been there, done that,” the Night Master returned. “I call it _life_.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Yo breathed, taking another swig of his drink. Maybe if he downed enough it’d dull the flames rising in his chest…

“Did you ever try to do anything other than this?” the Night Master asked suddenly, gesturing at Yo.

(Yo took “this” to mean “being a Woo Foo knight.” He made a noncommittal noise, wanting to see where he was going with this before giving away any kind of answer.)

“Was it nice, being able to slide into whatever you want, and not be made to feel out of place for it? I’ve got a secret for you, Yo: Bats? Or anyone people define as a ‘creature of darkness’? We’re not _liked_. We walk into a building and half the time a manager will come over going ‘now we don’t want any trouble, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave,’ and then we have to stand there and try to explain we just want to buy _groceries._ That suburb I’m stuck in? Do you think they _want_ me there? Do you know how often I get indirectly, _passive-aggressively_ told I’m bringing down the neighborhood’s property values just by _being_ there?”

“Wow, people aren’t all that inviting to someone who proudly identifies as _evil,_ can’t imagine why that would be,” Yo said sarcastically (though he had to admit his indignation had waned a bit).

“None of them know!” the Night Master burst. “That’s the whole point of me living there! None of them will rat me out to someone who might have a grudge because none of them know what I used to be!”

He growled, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes and rubbing agitatedly. Yo was suddenly confronted with just how tired he looked.

Glaring back over at him, the Night Master went on, “Point of fact is that my life was _infinitely_ better when I was spending it making everyone else’s _worse._ No one seems to care about _fighting_ the stereotype, so why not benefit where I can by leaning into it?”

Yo didn’t have an answer for a moment.

“There are plenty of bats who don’t try to take their problems out on the whole stinkin’ planet,” he finally insisted stiffly.

“I can promise you every single one of them has _thought_ about it at least once,” the Night Master shot back. “Hardly my fault I’m the only one who decided to try.”

They sank back into sullen silence.

* * *

“I did kind of do something besides this—” Yo said some time and many drinks later, making small gesture at himself, “—when I was younger.”

The Night Master observed him grumpily, but waited for clarification.

“I was in a band,” Yo finally supplied. He very nearly went into the whole thing, ‘it was called Pandangerous, we were kinda big, you might’ve heard of us,’ but he found he couldn’t bring himself too. He was actually suddenly kind of embarrassed he’d brought it up at all. This was the _Night Master,_ he didn’t _care._

“…what did you play?”

Yo blinked, surprised. “Uh… bass?”

The Night Master cocked his head. “Hm. Would’ve taken you for a drummer.” There was a small pause before (sinking in on himself a little, Yo couldn’t help but notice) he mumbled, “I’d always kind of wanted to learn violin.”

Yo stared for a second. Yeah, violin did seem to fit with the whole… _dark and brooding_ –thing he had going. Rather than comment to that effect, he asked, “Why didn’t you?”

The Night Master shrugged morosely. “My grip is too weak. I couldn’t hold it right.”

Yo had a sudden, very violent flashback to the last time they’d fought. At one point during, the Night Master had taken him by the throat and held him off the ground. His windpipe had felt like it was being crushed by a steel trap.

“Hey, uh, I dunno who fed you _that_ load, but you might wanna get a second opinion. Your grip seemed _fine_ last I checked,” he said, rubbing his throat absentmindedly at the memory.

The Night Master looked at him curiously, but then he must’ve remembered the incident Yo was indirectly referring to, because he shook his head. “I caught you with my good hand then. My other one’s messed up, and that’s the one I’d need to hold the strings.”

“Why’s it messed up?”

The Night Master began to answer, then looked like he’d had a realization of some sort. Perhaps something to the tune of ‘ _oh, wait, enemy, why am I telling him this?’_ He curled further in on himself, took another sip of his daiquiri, and muttered, “My wing got snapped when I was six. It didn’t heal properly.”

“Ah…” Yo thought for a second, then tilted his head, a discrepancy occurring to him. “But wait, if your wing’s so messed up that you can’t even use your hand right, how do you still fly?”

“How do _you?”_

Confused, Yo was about to point out that he _didn’t_ fly, but then the pieces clicked into place.

“…you _don’t_ fly. You just use magic to float around.”

“Got it in one. Congrats.”

“…you, um. You don’t have your magic anymore. So ever since our last fight you’ve been basically—?”

“Yeah,” the Night Master said curtly, cutting him off.

“Oh,” Yo said. “I’m, um… I’m sorry.”

(Yo was surprised to realize he genuinely _meant_ that, and wasn’t just saying it to follow the script for polite conversation.)

The Night Master looked at him, cranky and skeptical, but to Yo’s surprise he only ending up grumbling something indistinct and taking another drink.

There was a short silence before Yo, spurred on by awkwardness and alcohol, asked, “How come your folks didn’t get your wing fixed? Or, y’know,” he made a small hand gesture, “patch it up so it wouldn’t heal weird?”

The Night Master didn’t answer, and Yo noticed his fists clench.

“…yeah. I didn’t have any of those either.”

The Night Master looked at him.

Yo fidgeted for a second. “M-my folks died around when I was born – I mean, probably. My mom definitely did, but whenever I’d ask about my old man people would change the subject, so I think he mighta just left. I was taken in by Masters Chai and Ti, but I don’t really remember them too much. They left me at the Dojo one day when I was… four? Mmmmaybe five? To fight Eradicus, and they never came back. So I was kinda raised by the other students that hung around. They didn’t always… I mean, none of them really wanted to waste their time taking care of some annoying little kid that wasn’t theirs, y’know?”

Yo was really regretting all the rum and cokes and whiskeys by this point; he was probably _waaaay_ over the threshold of oversharing here.

Coughing awkwardly into his fist, he tentatively asked, “H-how ‘bout you? If you didn’t have folks, did you have siblings, or like – a _group_ like I did, or…?”

The Night Master was silent. For so long, in fact, that Yo began to assume he just wasn’t going to answer. Then, quietly, he said, “I stayed with someone unrelated for the first chunk of my life. He died when I was fourteen.”

“Oh,” Yo said. Then, again, “I’m sorry about that.”

As the Night Master shrugged, Yo prompted, “D’you, um, miss him?”

The Night Master’s fists clenched again, and once more didn’t answer. But Yo had caught the expression that had flitted across his face, regardless of his swift smothering of it.

No, he didn’t miss him, and he didn’t like thinking about him, either.

Yo felt something akin to guilt, though he couldn’t quite place why.

“ _Hey_ ,” he suddenly said, probably a bit too forcefully. “Stop me if you’ve heard this one—”

(The Night Master, taken thoroughly off-guard by his outburst, stared at him alarmed and confused.)

“—two guys walk into a bar, the third guy ducks.”

The Night Master snorted, then blinked. Apparently he was as surprised as Yo that he’d actually found that funny.

Smiling for reasons he couldn’t quite discern, Yo said, “I got more, if you wanna hear ‘em.”

The Night Master stared at him for a second, seemingly disoriented, before slowly nodding, albeit in slightly resigned and wary fashion. “Sure. Why not…?”

* * *

“Okayokayokay,” Yo said, “one more, one more. I got this from a Redneckistanian a while back – I think his name was Jeff – I dunno, anyway:

“So this guy’s mother-in-law’s been living with him for a while, right? Well, he comes home one day and she’s on the floor, so he calls an ambulance and they take her to the hospital. The doctor comes out after a while and says ‘I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news.’

“The guy goes, ‘gimme the bad news first.’

“The doctor says, ‘well, your mother-in-law had a massive stroke, but she survived. In fact she’ll probably live another forty more years. The problem is it’s made it so she can’t speak, she can only make a screeching sound like a parrot now. It’s also disabled her arms, so for the next forty years or so you’ll have to feed her baby food three times every day. Also, it’s made her incontinent, so you’re gonna have to change her diapers and clean her up every time she goes to the bathroom.’

“The guy goes, ‘oh my god! What’s the _good_ news??’

“And the doctor goes, ‘I’m just kiddin’ with ya, she died!’”

The Night Master promptly began giggling so hard he had to fight to keep from snorting. Given how far he usually held a stick up inside himself, Yo felt remarkably accomplished.

(Yeah okay fine, the guy was pretty sloshed by this point, and drunk people weren’t exactly hard to amuse, but _still_.)

“Okay, now you,” Yo prompted. “C’mon, whaddya got?”

The Night Master, still giggling, shook his head. “The only jokes I know are either really dirty or Woo Foo jokes.”

Yo paused, and then – because he couldn’t _not_ ask – slowly repeated, “‘Woo Foo jokes’?”

The Night Master nodded. “They’re making fun of you,” he clarified. Then, after a moment’s thought, “Not you _specifically_ , but. You know, people who practice.”

Yo cocked an eyebrow. “‘Making fun’ like how, exactly?”

“Like—Like— oh, do you just want me to tell you one?”

Already regretting his decision, Yo said, “Yeah, fine. Hit me with your best shot.”

The Night Master grinned, adjusting himself almost excitedly in his seat. “Alright, so: a group of villains kidnap a stink aardvark, a tree person, and a Woo Foo knight. They plan to kill them all by firing squad.

“They bring the stink aardvark out in front of the firing squad and ask it, ‘any last words?’

“The aardvark yells ‘tornado!’

“The villains all turn to look for the tornado, and the aardvark gets away.

“Next they bring the tree person out in front of the firing squad. They ask it, ‘any last words?’

“The tree person yells ‘flood!’

“The villains all turn to look for the flood, and the tree person gets away.”

The Night Master began giggling again. “Finally the villains bring the Woo Foo knight in front of the firing squad. They ask them— th-they ask them—hold on—” he needed to pause, because his laughter was starting to cut him off. He composed himself enough to continue, “They ask them, ‘any last words?’ And the Woo Foo knight— the Woo Foo knight says—”

The Night Master was leaning against the bar at this point, fighting to finish his sentence through his laughter. Finally, he said: “The Woo Foo knight says, ‘ _fire!’_ ”

And with that the Night Master collapsed back into his hopeless fit of giggles.

Yo looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. Whether because of the Night Master’s reaction to his own joke or because he was also pretty darn drunk, there was a laugh threatening to bubble out from the back of his throat.

“That was _horrible_ ,” he said to cover it.

The Night Master – who was wearing probably the _dopiest_ grin Yo had ever seen – reached over and poked him in the cheek. “You’re _smiling,_ ” he jeered.

Yo batted his hand away, trying to force down the grin that was indeed plastered across his face. “Only because of your stupid _laugh_ , not because your dumb joke was funny.”

The Night Master, still grinning sloppily, propped his head up on his hand. “Aww, you like my laugh?”

Yo blinked, but rather than let himself answer he gave a muffled snicker of his own. “Wow, you are _really_ drunk.”

The Night Master gave a carefree shrug. “I could talk myself out of something if I needed to.”

“Pfff, I doubt it.”

The Night Master gave him a brief look, then straightened in his seat. His expression slid seamlessly into an unamused, very _alert_ scowl, all traces of drunken joviality gone.

“I assure you,” he said, tone icy and deceptively steady, “if I didn’t want people to know I was inebriated, _no one would_.”

As Yo blinked, alarmed, his posture suddenly went slack again, and his dopey smile was back in place.

“How the footoodles did you do that?” Yo asked.

Again, the Night Master shrugged. “Practice,” he said, then pointed at himself. “ _Former Night Master_ , remember? Couldn’t show weakness at any given moment. Came with the job.”

“Huh.” Yo paused, thinking for a second, then asked, “Why’re you letting _me_ know you’re… uh, ‘inebriated’ then?”

A small, giddy grin. “What could _you_ possibly do about it? You’re just as drunk as me.”

Yo snickered again. “Touché.” A moment’s consideration, then, “M’not looking forward to the hangover later, I’ll tell you that.”

“Oh, it’s going to be murder, absolutely,” the Night Master agreed, nodding.

Yo grinned, picking up his glass. “To future regrets, then?”

The Night Master beamed back, lifting his own glass. “Wholeheartedly.”

They clinked their drinks together before simultaneously tipping them back.

* * *

“I don’t know what I was expecting from tonight,” Yo confessed.

The bar was empty, save for them and the bartender. Yo wasn’t sure what time it was anymore. The Night Master was resting his head on his crossed wings on top of the bar, looking up at him.

“Probably not this,” he slurred.

“Well, no, but I mean…” Yo shifted, trying to pull words out of the sloshing barrel of booze that was his brain. “I don’t know why I thought seeing someone was gonna turn out this time. Dating doesn’t work for me. It just _doesn’t_. It never has. Even back when I was—” he faltered, before gesturing weakly at himself. “Not… _this_ …”

The Night Master’s ear twitched, his brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

Yo went on, “I’d meet a girl and she’d be… _fine._ Like she’d be _nice_. And we’d go on dates, and they’d be _fine_ , and really all the girls I went on dates with were _pretty_ , but then just. That’d be it. They’d all be pretty or funny or sweet and I wouldn’t feel… _anything_ , basically. And so I’d stop seeing them, because I didn’t feel anything, which was really just me being a jerk, but if I _told_ them that they didn’t make me feel anything then eventually people would just think I was…”

He paused. The Night Master still looked up at him, and was still silent.

“I kept telling myself that I’d find the right girl eventually. I’d find a girl who made me feel everything I was s’posed to, and then we’d fall in love and get married and that’d be it. I’d actually been _excited_ when I started going out with Edna, because I thought I’d finally got it. But it’s… I don’t… I don’t really think that’s gonna happen anymore. I used to be able to get girls no problem, but now they don’t want anything to do with me and— and I can’t really _blame_ ‘em, but the only way I can even kind of find interest if is they’re really good-looking, and anyone who’s good-looking is _way_ out of my league now. And even if I _do_ manage to score a date I still don’t _feel_ anything.”

He was staring into a now empty glass. He’d finished it a little bit ago, but he hadn’t asked for a refill. Just as well, it was probably time to stop. He couldn’t stop rambling. His throat felt like it was closing and his eyes kind of burned. That was probably an effect of all the alcohol, right?

“I think I might be broken,” he finally muttered.

The Night Master still looked up at him. Then, slowly, he sat up, leaned over, and rested his head on Yo’s shoulder.

“You’re not broken,” he said quietly.

* * *

Yo wasn’t a stranger to alcohol. He’d been a rebellious youth once. More to the point, he’d been a rebellious _rock star._ Safe to say he’d built up more than an adequate tolerance to the stuff. As such, despite by no means going _light_ the night before, he hadn’t blacked out.

( _Obviously_. He wouldn’t have considered going to a bar if he’d thought that’d been a risk. Depressed at getting stood up or not, he couldn’t exactly get blackout drunk when he had two _kids_ to come home to.)

Point being: when he woke up in his bed the next morning, he wasn’t hit with the standard “where am I how did I get here what happened last night who’s lying next to me” –questions that made most people panic.

What was making him quietly panic was that he knew _exactly_ who was tucked under his arm, currently trying to bury their face into his neck to escape the light that was now streaming in through the window.


End file.
